


Castlevania: A Male Reader Insert

by GoldenOreoPublications



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series, 悪魔城ドラキュラX 月下の夜想曲 | Castlevania: Symphony of the Night
Genre: M/M, Male Protagonist, Reader is a healer, Reader is a mage, Slow Burn, long chapters, male reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:13:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29018751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenOreoPublications/pseuds/GoldenOreoPublications
Summary: A war between the living and dead rages within the land of Wallachia. Death is found in any town and city you enter, all brought about by the townsfolk of Targoviste killing one woman.You left your hometown of Targoviste after you discovered the town's plans for celebrating the death of Lisa Tepes in search of a better life away from such monsters, only to find yourself mixed into a group with a monster fighting drunk, a snappy and brave Speaker magician, and a strikingly gorgeous half vampire, and the son of the very man you all sought to kill.This is your story in the Romanian region of Wallachia in the year 1476, following the Netflix adaptation of Castlevania: Symphony of the Night, spurred on completely by me rewatching the show for the millionth time. As a disclaimer of sorts, this will probably turn into a story with Alucard as a love interest because they really do him dirty over at Netflix so if that isn't your cup of tea, feel free to skip out of reading this! I really do enjoy how this came out so I hope you like it as much as I do!
Relationships: Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya/Reader
Comments: 12
Kudos: 10





	1. Exile

"I will not watch as this sad village takes pleasure in the death of an innocent woman!" Your voice came out tired and hoarse from arguing with your parents.

Preparations for the anniversary of the death of a local doctor woman named Lisa Tepes were underway a week before the event was to take place. The poor woman had her life taken away from her a year prior and now your village was celebrating it. You wanted no part of it. The blood of Lisa Tepes was on the hands of everyone in attendance to her death, and that included your parents.

From your window, you had seen the vision of what you later learned was Dracula on the flames that had just consumed his wife. You'd asked many of your neighbors if they had seen the same thing and while they did confirm it, their voices were filled with annoyance and disbelief. They seemed to doubt the very real sight that you had seen along with them and it annoyed you to no end. Ever since then, you'd despised living in Targoviste. Your patience was pulled taut day after day and this celebration was the last straw.

Your mother placed her hands on your shoulders in a vain attempt to calm your heated mood, "My dear, it was a punishment! A punishment felt by God for dealing with the devil the way she did."

"No, Mother, she was a doctor! A woman of science!" You yelled, forcing your body away from her grip, "She was a kind woman who did well for her people!"

"You speak as if you knew that witch!" came your father's booming voice, "If you think her innocent maybe you should join her!"

He rose from his chair aggressively, almost knocking it over as he moved to approach you. Your mother called out to him, reaching and grabbing for his arm to prevent him from doing anything while you stepped away hesitantly, prepared for but not fully expecting any kind of physical strike. 

His words burned into your flesh and only made you angrier. Scowling at your father, you spit at his feet and let the venom you held in your spirit for him and the whole village drip off of every word you spoke, "Maybe I will! I'll leave this place and never return, make myself put to be dead to you!"

"Darling, please!" Your mother begged, her sad tear-filled eyes boring into yours, which alternatively were filled with a burning fire of anger. She knew your threat was a serious one.

Before you could speak, your father interrupted, speaking to your mother now and pulling his arm from her hold, "Let the boy go! If he hates it here so much, he should leave! He's old enough now!"

He turned back to you, staying still and standing tall where he was, and glared daggers into what felt like your very soul. His voice was calm and steady now, but the hatred in his voice remained the same, "Go. Leave and never return to Targoviste. For as long as this place stands you are no longer welcome here."

You sneered at him for the last time and turned on your heel to head to your room, prepared to grab everything you could and leave as soon as possible. You could hear your parents arguing even on the way into your room but you couldn't bother paying attention to their words. 

Soon after, you left through the window of your bedroom and only looked back once onto the place you'd once called home.

Finding your way to Gresit was almost a blessing. Heading out onto the road alone was a surefire way to get yourself killed by bandits, marauders, and other various things that go bump in the night, and after learning Dracula was real, every night spent outside was filled with the anxiety that a vampire would come and bleed your body dry as you slept.

And for a few days, it felt like a blessing indeed. You'd managed to find a small place to live in the quiet city, an extra room in the house of a kind older couple who'd taken a liking to you immediately, mentioning that you reminded them of their son. While you didn't know the fellow, you took it as a compliment and thanked them for their comment and the place to stay. That same day, you discovered a metal hatch hidden in the floor in the main room and asked the couple what was under it.

"The church said it was a room dedicated to practicing witchcraft so we've never opened it. Never know what demons could be lurking down there you know," The older man laughed after he spoke, his once sweet wrinkled face somehow a bit more gruff-looking to you now after his comment. 

In the year after Lisa's death, one that took an emotional toll on you despite having never met the woman, you had managed to teach yourself healing magic. It started after the purchase of what you thought was a medical book about the human body from some shady man that would occasionally show up outside of Targoviste, a book that turned out to instead be a tome of advanced healing magic. You realized you couldn't use it since up until very recently you had no idea magic even existed. You almost threw it out until you realized this was the perfect way to spite your family and neighbors in your own, quiet way. Slowly but surely, you collected more and more tomes and books dedicated to medical magic, teaching yourself day after day how to heal wounds. You would deliberately let yourself get injured, running around in the forest outside of the city and scraping yourself on anything to practice your magic until you got better and better. And so the topic of witchcraft as sin became even more upsetting. 

Despite that incident, the following days were peaceful, speaking with the townspeople and exploring the small nooks and crannies of Gresit. The dark little corners were quite fun to investigate, at least up until the first raid. Unannounced, evil creatures of the night invaded and ravaged Gresit. Terrible nasty things that smelled of death and looked like they'd been pulled from the deepest depths of Hell. If they were called upon by who you thought, they very well may have been.

You were not prepared for the raid, but you thought quickly and retreated into the floor, pulling open that accursed metal door in the main room and hiding inside what you found to be a cold unlit room, not that you were surprised. Using the light your magic gave off, you managed to locate a candle and a means to light it. Being able to see more now, you could make out the size of the small room and the table you found the candle on to your left, empty except for broken glass and unidentifiable stains. On the walls in front of you and to your right were old wooden shelves, empty except for more glass and stains and rotting away, a level or two broken on either shelf. Figuring this room was as good refuge as any, you sat on the floor next to the candle and closed your eyes, listening as the old couple upstairs was mauled by whatever ungodly creature decided to enter your new home. 

Despite how well the door was hidden, you simply waited for your turn to be torn apart. But it didn't come. Instead, all you heard was one loud slam against the small metal door, no doubt one of the monsters roaming around outside, and then a loud pained screech. It was an otherworldly sound, something animalistic and yet something more at the same time. It was as fascinating as it was terrifying. You figured that something was going on with the door that kept you safe and so, you relaxed, listening as the creatures above you scraped their claws and limbs and tails along the floor of your residence until you were lulled to sleep by the noise.

The next morning, you almost vomited the second you stepped out of your shelter. The scent of blood was enough but pushing open the door to be met with the dead eyes of the old lady who'd complimented your face and told you to kindly call her granny was another thing entirely. You pushed her head out of the way, stepping around the blood and trying not to gag. All your efforts were in vain the second you opened the door to the rest of Gresit. The scent of blood and death hit you in the nose hard and you immediately threw up onto your front step. Watching your bile leak down the street, you stared as it made your eyes find the blood of the townsfolk still running in between the bricks. You looked up from the contents of your stomach and gagged again hard, following the string of entrails that lined pikes, each topped with the head of a townsperson. You wanted to take a deep breath, suppress your urge to empty your stomach again but every inhale smelled like blood and terror. So instead, you closed the door, stepped over what little remains there were of the couple, and headed upstairs to your given room where you curled up in bed and cried.

The following days were wrought with fear, the town now even quieter but deafeningly so. You watched on your morning run for food as bodies got dumped into the river and did your best to not cry or puke. You didn't talk to many people after that, not until you heard rumors one morning of the local Speakers being responsible for the nightly raids. You'd never paid the peaceful group much mind but after an accusation such as that, you wanted to know what that meant. Rather than asking the likely biased townsfolk, you found the Speakers yourself living in a cute little home away from most of the others. The Elder welcomed you kindly and answered all your questions, his darling granddaughter chiming in as well. You found the group friendly and warm, even making acquaintance with the girl you soon found to be called Sypha, discussing your mutual use of magic.

When she went missing, you were distraught, concerned for her and the rest of the Speakers. After being told by her grandfather where she'd gone, your worry only grew. To find a sleeping soldier, he'd told you. You would have insisted to find her of your magic was capable of more than healing wounds. Instead, you assumed the worst for her and mourned for her death.

It appeared that your life was consistent in being eventful, as a mysterious man showed up in town one day, reeking of beer and sweat and dirt. You had no idea how he'd gotten in since the people of the town had effectively barricaded the entrance, assuming the sorry son of a bitch had been so desperate as to crawl up the literal crapshoot in the back of the city which hadn't been blocked of for very obvious reasons.

At first, you'd only seen him, talking to townsfolk while you were out getting supplies for the house, of which you had now sadly claimed as yours alone. You never paid attention to their conversations, but as unfriendly as he looked he made an effort to talk to as many people as he could. It concerned you and made you suspicious of this tall, brooding stranger.

Then, that same day, when you went for your daily visit to the Speakers there he was, blabbering away about God only knew. You were on defense the moment you realized who or was sitting at the window, fearing only the worst from this man.

"Who are you?" you spit as you walked towards him to put whatever wall you could between him and the Speakers, your words like knives that you hoped would dig into this man's composure. 

The kind elder placed his hand on your shoulder and chuckled warmly, "You young people, always so easy to anger when something you love is threatened," Your confused face only made him laugh again, calling your name in a voice only a parent knew to their child as a way of easing their worry, "This man saved my life today."

Despite your complete trust in the Speaker, you had doubts that a man so brash would willingly save anyone. As if for an answer, you looked back at the stranger at the window, who now eyes you as well over the full, fluffed hem of his cloak. In response to your wordless question, he simply shrugged carelessly and turned to look back outside.

You huffed, deciding to trust the Speaker's words and approaching the man closer to apologize, "I'm sorry for my attitude towards you. The townspeople don't like the Speakers much since the raids so I only assumed the worst from you, what with you being an outsider and all."

You told the strange man your name and in response, he gruffly told you his.

"Trevor. Belmont. Now, if there isn't anything else left to discuss, I'm going to retrieve your dead Speaker," He'd said bluntly, getting up from his spot by the window and walking away. You now realized how tall he truly was, towering over most of the speakers with ease.

His words struck a chord and you stumbled to follow him, pulling on his cloak to half his advance, "Retrieve a speaker? What do you mean?" you asked, your voice rushed and frantic.

His mouth turned down into a displeased frown, pulling his cloak from your grasp, "Yes," his voice coming out annoyed and short, "These Speakers won't leave without their last member and whether they are alive or dead, I'll be bringing them back so that they leave before your crazy neighbors kill them in cold blood."

"I'm coming with you then!" You insisted, determination evident in your face. Trevor ignored you, walking out of the small residence. You followed, running to catch up and then stepping in front of him to stop him, "Listen to me! That Speaker is a friend of mine, I want to come with you."

He sighed, very clearly annoyed at your presence. He pinched at the skin between his eyes and closed them, "We would be going deep underground into catacombs contained with God knows what. If you don't have experience in dealing with such matters, I can't promise you won't die down there too."

When Trevor opened his eyes again, he found your face had not changed and he shook his head, "Do you even have any idea how to defend yourself?"

You faltered a slight bit, admitting that you didn't have much of an idea of such, "B-But I know healing magic! If you get hurt, I can fix it!" you stuttered out, desperate to convince this stranger to help you in saving your friend.

He stared at you for a moment and then groaned loudly, walking past you and speaking, "Fine! But if you get yourself killed down there, I'm not bringing your body back up too."

You cared not for the possibility of death at that moment, only excited that for once, it felt like you could do good instead of sitting around and letting people around you die at the hands of disgusting monsters.

As a scholar of magic and new to the fantastical world outside of the one you've always known, you liked to ask questions. And on the trip to the catacombs holding Sypha, you asked Trevor a lot of them.

"So, what kinds of monsters exist in the world?"

"When did you kill your first monster?"

"Can you make friends with monsters?"

"For the love of God, would you please shut up with the questions!" Trevor barked, sounding more tired than truly angry and if the scent of dirt and drink were any tell, he didn't sleep well the night before. He stopped and turned to you, icey blue eyes boring into yours with intensity, "I have no idea all of the monsters in the world, I don't remember my first kill, and no, you can't make friends with them. Now, will you please be quiet."

Without waiting for a response, Trevor turns forward again and continues moving. You jog lightly to catch up and comply with his wishes, but only for a moment.

You looked at Trevor and asked another question, but one with more weight this time, "What do you think we'll see down there..?"

Trevor seemed to have calmed, not meeting your gaze but talking in a more serious and thoughtful tone, "I'll be honest when I say I'm not sure. When I said you'll probably die down there I meant it," his hand moves to the hilt of the short sword at his hip as if on instinct, "Without proper knowledge of monsters, you'll die if you go poking your nosey head into places it doesn't belong."

You turn back to look at the dirt road ahead of you and sigh, "Well, I at least know how to keep myself safe from those horrible beasts that ravage Gresit every night."

"And how's that?"

"There's a small door in the main room of my home, a hatch leading down into the floor made of metal. I'm not sure what it is, but those things hate touching it."

You hear Trevor hum in thought, "Could have been blessed by a priest. My weapons have been blessed to be able to effectively kill monsters, so it's not a stretch to think that the same was done on that little door of yours."

"The old residents did speak about it being an old witch's den or something..."

The tension between the two of you lifted and the rest of the way to the catacombs was filled with idle conversation.


	2. Salvation

The catacombs were terrifying to say the very least. Nestled in the heart of the cemetery, west of the Church, the building that housed the depths of Gresit intimidated you. Every glance made you shiver, always met with the visages of tall statues. While you eyed the place in obvious skepticism, Trevor looked around the place curiously as if searching for something. 

He smirked when he saw what he was looking for, muttering a half-hearted, “Come on,” and climbing up one of the big stone monsters in front of you. When you didn’t follow, he looked back at you, raising an eyebrow. 

You tilted your head, unclear as to where he was headed.

Annoyed, he groaned and pointed in front of him, “There’s a passage this way. Are you coming or not?”

Surprised that he managed to find such a thing and so quickly, you froze for a moment and then nodded, clumsily climbing the same statue he did and watched as he disappeared feet first into the wall. You wormed yourself in after him, realizing too late that it was a smooth stone slope and shouting in surprise as you slipped down into the rest of the catacombs.

“Would you keep quie-” Trevor started, being cut off by your body being launched into his by the momentum of your fall. You both crumpled into a heap on the ground and Trevor was grateful that the impact didn’t send him down the stairs too. He groaned in pain as you apologized profusely, scrambling to get off of him. He shushed you, clearly frustrated, and said nothing more, getting up and descending the small set of stairs.

You followed him, watching as he sniffed one of the only torches in the room, “Fresh oil…” He brought it up the wall next to him and struck it with his knife, lighting it with the sparks that flew. He started to walk deeper into the room, using the light of the torch to guide his way with you closely in tow.

“Anybody home?” Trevor called out into the darkness. The light of the fire illuminated the walls and pillars in the room, highlighting a strange protrusion from one of the pillars. It was metal and distinctly different from the stone. 

You approached it, drawing Trevor’s attention. You placed your hand on the foreign shape, feeling smooth warm metal under your palm and the vibrations of something moving through what you now assumed to be a pipe. You looked at each other confused. Trevor turned to the pipe and knocked on it with his free hand. In response, it made a hollow noise followed by an audible confirmation that something was flowing through it. You both decided to leave the pipe behind and proceed further into the catacombs. Finding another set of stairs, Trevor stepped in front of you and unsheathed his short sword, using it to guard his front. 

He stepped cautiously down onto the first step, “I can hear you,” He announced loudly into the stairway. You followed his steps closely, peeking around him to watch the space in front for monsters, “I’m armed, and a lot less happy than you are so you want to stay well out of my way.”

The moment he took a step onto the floor at the bottom of the steps, it started to collapse. Not paying attention, you stepped down as well. The floor caved and it took the both of you with it, you both exclaiming as you fell.

Trevor landed gracefully and laughed to himself, “Reflexes like a cat!” He bragged. 

However, your body soon joined him. Your fearful yelling announced your approach and you hit the ground hard, creating another fallout in the floor beneath Trevor’s feet that took you even further down. Once again, you landed on top of him. The both of you groaned loudly in pain and Trevor carelessly tossed you off of him.

Breathless, he spoke between gasps, “You… need to stop doing that…”

Also at a loss of breath, you do your best to regain your composure as you look to your side at him, “Sorry.”

He makes a strained noise as he pushes his body off of the rubble and you follow suit, letting him lead you again as you rub your aching back. 

As you continued to follow your new companion, you noticed more strange contraptions connected to the pillars lining the room. As you paused in front of one of them, it began to hum, and soon you were blinded by a light brighter than any torch or flame you’d ever seen. It was an unnatural blue and it hurt your eyes to look at it. The life of the light in front of you signaled the ignition of the others, each giving off that same distinct hum that you’d never heard before.

With the light came a clearer view of the room. In the middle stood a stone statue of a person, which you and Trevor approached with caution. When you got close enough to realize the statue was dressed like a Speaker, any hesitation you had evaporated.

“Sypha!” you called, so very sure that somehow, this statue was your missing friend. You ran for the statue, not thinking about what you would do when you got to it and caring more for seeing if Sypha was alive.

Trevor tried to stop you, reaching for you too late and grasping air instead. He chased after you for the small distance you’d managed to run away from him and pulled on your arm, tearing you back and further away from Sypha. He looked at you like you were crazy and in his eyes, you probably did seem so. 

“Are you an idiot?” he spoke in a loud whisper, likely to keep from alarming anything that may be hiding in the darkness, “We have no idea what’s in here and if that’s your friend then something down here must have done that.”  
  
Like a harbinger of the danger to come, it seemed that Trevor’s words had summoned a beast. Loud booming footsteps announced the arrival of a tall lumbering creature with a terrifying mouth and a single grotesque eye, as large as one of your heads and staring right at you. You gasped and froze, staring dumbly at the towering being in front of you. You almost stayed in place. The moment that thing’s eye started to glow, you got pulled by your arm again and tugged behind the closest pillar. 

Trevor held you close to himself as he tried to catch his breath, “Stone eyed cyclops. Right out of the family bestiary,” he informed, but it seemed to be more to himself than to you, “God shits in my dinner once again.”  
  
His comment would have made you laugh if the cyclops didn’t step around to look at you and try it’s magic again. This time, it was your turn to pull Trevor away, tugging him behind another one of the pillars and then making a beeline for the next one closest to him. 

Over the noise of the next blast dealt from the monster’s eye, you shouted to him, “It’s best if we keep our distance! If that thing hits us both, none of us are leaving!”

He only nodded and looked around for the ghoulish beast and before you could warn him, he was grabbed and tossed from behind his pillar into one of the blue torches, shattering it. You called out to him, scared for the worst when you saw blood spill from his mouth. You immediately regretted it when you saw the cyclops’ eye now trained on you and readying another blast of energy. You panicked and ran for the next pillar over, stumbling to the ground. You didn’t dare try to get up, only sat down with your back firmly pressed against the pillar and your knees pulled as tightly as you could to your chest. You were surprised you hadn’t been hit and breathing hard, watching the beast to make sure to see when it would try again. Trevor used your impromptu distraction to launch his short sword directly into the chest of the cyclops. The only problem was that it didn’t stop moving. You rose from your seated position to watch as the cyclops turned to Trevor and readied another attack.

Trevor ran again, quickly settling behind another pillar as he took hold of his whip. He watched the monster carefully and waited for the perfect moment. And when that moment came, you got to see with your own eyes why the Belmonts were, or at least used to be, held to such high regard as monster hunters. Trevor used his whip to wrap around the exposed hilt of his sword and pulled it out with an expert spin, the momentum pulling the object out of the chest of the cyclops. His movements were strangely elegant, manipulating his whip and making it so that his sword struck the cyclops beneath his chin, forcing its head up violently. The impact loosened the sword from the end of the whip, spinning in the air at a high speed. Trevor climbed the frozen body of Sypha and skillfully butterfly-kicked his spinning blade directly into the center of the cyclops' giant eye.

You gaped in awe, your jaw slack as you watched the giant fall with a ground-shaking thud. With the vibration of the floor beneath you, the statue of Sypha began to fall. Quickly, you ran to catch it, watching as the stone melted away from Sypha's flesh. You smiled as she opened her eyes but before you could get a word in, she pushed off of your chest, falling to her knees in front of you and vomiting. It was comforting. She was alive. You knelt next to her and rubbed her back and she looked up at you. Her eyes widened and she stared at you, speaking your name quietly. Without waiting for a response, she pulled you in for a tight hug that you happily reciprocated.

"What happened?" She asked as she pulled away from your hold.

Trevor interrupted your thoughts, speaking out loud while he pulled his sword from the eye of the beast and wiped it off on his cloak, "You walked into a cyclops. Turns you to stone with its eyeball and feeds on your terror while you're trapped in your own body."

While you shivered at the thought, Sypha only looked at the man accusingly as she stood up, "Did you… climb on me?"

"Hmm… Perhaps," Trevor teased, smirking at Sypha which only made her blood boil more.

She scoffed, "Well, that was rude," she turned to you confused, "Don't tell me you brought him with you…"

You shook your head and laughed nervously, "We came here together actually. In all honesty, he did all the work, I just stood around and watched."

"Of course…" she sighed, putting her head in her hand. 

You took her free hand and began to pull her along to the exit, “Come on, we have to get back to your grandfather.”   
  


She resisted your action, protesting strongly against leaving, “But the Sleeping Soldier is still down here!”

Trevor spoke out again as he looked at you both unamused, “There is no Sleeping Warrior, just a cyclops waiting for people stupid enough to go looking,” Sypha’s face said that she didn’t appreciate being called stupid but she let him keep talking regardless, “It's a trap for gullible Speakers. You're not popular around here…”

Tacking that small sentence on at the end annoyed Sypha even further. Her focus was on him as she tried to reason with him about the existence of such a being, “But the old wisdom says the tomb is guarded-”

“Yeah yeah. Come on, time to go home,” Trevor pushes, sheathing his sword and turning to leave, “Your people think you’re dead.”

“They… think I’m dead?” She looked to you for confirmation and grimly, you nodded.

You tried to reassure her with a smile and a hand on her shoulder, “But hey! You’re not, so all we have to do now is take you back to the rest of the Speakers and everything will be fine.”

Sypha smiled back at you, thankful for the reassurance. With your positivity having calmed her a bit, she looked to Trevor and tried to be cordial by introducing herself, “I’m Sypha Belnades.”

“I don’t care,” was Trevor’s only response, not even looking at you two as he walked towards the exit.

Sypha groaned, annoyed after only knowing Trevor for a minute or two. You chuckled a bit at her attitude towards the gruff man you felt you had acquainted, which earned you quite an intimidating glare from the Speaker magician.

Back on the surface, you chatted with Sypha on the way to the lodging of the Speakers. Reaching the door, Trevor opened it in front of the three of you, entering first with you following after him and Sypha after you. The Speakers’ eyes were on you and Trevor instantly, the Elder looking the most anxious of them all. You smiled warmly at him while Trevor rubbed the back of his neck. You stepped out of the way to reveal Sypha. The faces of the Speakers lit up one by one, the Elder’s face being the brightest. Sypha smiled back at her grandfather and ran into his embrace, clinging to him as tightly as he was to her.

The Elder lifts his head from Sypha’s coral-colored hair and he beams at you and Trevor, “Thank you. Both of you. So very much.”

You nod in acknowledgement, a smile also present on your lips. Uncharacteristically shy, Trevor averts his eyes from the Speaker and hums then mumbles, “You’re welcome.”

Still tightly wrapped in her hug, Sypha’s face becomes sad. She doesn’t look up to speak to her grandfather when she tells him, “I failed to find the Sleeper. I’m sorry.”   
  


The Elder pulls Sypha away from him to once again smile at her face, “Hush now, my angel. You did what you could.”

“I very much doubt there’s anyone down there,” Trevor says, watching Sypha’s face without expression as it turns into a frustrated and defensive frown, “It's probably a booby-trapped legend. There's someone wriggling with pleasure in his coffin right now thinking of people like your girl walking into the cyclops he left down there.”

“Or perhaps there is something down there so important that it must be guarded by monsters,” Sypha quickly retorted, stepping away from her grandfather and closer to the monster hunter to stand firm in front of him.

“Your Messiah isn't down there.”

“And what makes you so sure?” Sypha was challenging Trevor, that much was clear. 

And you had the same question. You saw as much as he did and hated to agree in some way, after all it looked like nothing had ever lived down there aside from that terrifying monster you’d seen down there. But what made him so confident in saying that?

You could sense the inevitable hostility from Trevor, hostility you had personally been on the receiving end of even in the short time you knew him. You stepped in between the both of them to hopefully separate their clashing personalities, placing a hand on each of their shoulders to push them apart. You quickly gave Sypha a look that told her to calm herself as you turned to Trevor, “It’s an honest question, Trevor. Who’s really to say there isn’t a dormant warrior hiding in that place?”   
  


Trevor seemed to have relaxed but stayed resilient in his opinion, “Speakers carry information down through the generations. We Belmonts pass things down as well,” He stepped back, away from your touch to look at both you and Sypha as he explained, “Do you remember what we saw down there? Metal veins pumping hot liquid? Torches that light by themselves that exactly fit descriptions written by my great-grandfather. Descriptions of the inside of Dracula's castle.”

You heard the gasps of the speakers around you, but you were instead stunned into silence. Instead of the gaping mouths of the people surrounding you, your jaw had screwed itself shut, teeth tightly keeping your mouth from opening and your lips pressed tightly together. There that name was again, a horrible blight burned into your memory, into the blood you watched get stuck between the floorboards of your home after your first night in Gresit, into the dead glassy eyes of every corpse that had the mercy of having its head still attached. Were you really inside something made by the man, the monster, so wounded by humans that he wanted the entire population of the world dead? Trevor seemed to think so.

He stepped away from the both of you to approach the door. He looked to you and then Sypha, his eyes settling on her as he spoke in a serious tone you’d never heard, one that made you shiver, “I don’t know what’s down there, but it’s not a Messiah.”

As he turned to leave, his voice shifted back into the way he normally spoke, aloof and uncaring, “I’ll leave you all to it.”

You wanted to call him back, to make him stay and tell you all he knew about Dracula. Some morbid part of your curiosity wanted to know more about the vampire who plagued your every waking moment. Hell, at this point he had consumed your peaceful nights of sleep as well, every dream turned into a nightmare composed of nothing but Dracula and his horrible, terrifying beasts of the night.

Consumed in your thoughts, you hadn’t noticed that the Elder did exactly what you had wanted to do, calling out to Trevor, “Nonsense. Please, stay with us for as long as you like,” he insisted, his warm fatherly smile ever present on his face, “I cannot begin to repay what I owe you.”

He turned back, looking over the collar of his cloak, just like he had when you first spoke to him. This mysterious man, so unfriendly and yet also so willing to help, looked at the Elder Speaker and asked, “Your leaving tonight, aren’t you?”

The Elder stuttered out, “Eh… Well, yes. Until then.”

“Right. I'll come back later,” Trevor announces, facing the door again and walking towards it as he makes a single request, “See if you can find some beer.”

With that, the lumbering Belmont had left and closed the door behind him.

Sypha’s eyes narrow at the door, as if trying to glare at Trevor through it, “I could just pee in a bucket and tell him it’s beer.”   
  


You laughed at her bluntness while her grandfather lightheartedly but sternly spoke her name the way adults usually do to ornery children, “Sypha, that man saved your life.”

Her brow furrowed, her lips curling into more of a frown once again, “He,” she started, emphasizing with one word her annoyance with the man, “is rude.”

The hand still on her shoulder tightened, a way of trying to comfort her and ease her heated emotions, “The Elder’s right though. He did save you,” Your gaze lowered from her face to the ground, “...However, I can see why you dislike him so much. I’ll be honest and tell you I felt very much the same.”  
  
“What changed your mind, then?”

You laughed, recalling how his tone towards you for the most part made it very clear he still didn’t like you much and yet-

“He let me come with him to help you,” You said, warm eyes looking back up into Sypha’s big, bright ones, “He was originally gonna go by himself, didn’t even want me to go with him. But I think he could tell how much I just wanted to see you safe and sound again. I was just as worried as everyone else, you know.”

Your last statement rolled off your tongue, honesty pouring out of your voice and it made Sypha think as she looked at your optimistic, smiling face. 

You gave her shoulder a small pat and lowered your hand, holding them behind your back as you prepared to leave, “Even if he doesn’t seem like it, he means well. He did save you after all,” you looked back at her and smiled again with your hand on the knob of the small door, “He almost didn’t even do that.”

Sypha pauses to consider your words, her previous opinion of Trevor seeming to falter, but only for a moment as she crossed her arms over her chest and huffed much like a child would, “Well, he’s still terribly rude.”

You chuckled at her behavior and nodded, “I know.”

And so you left too, closing the door behind you. You stretched and groaned, your body still sore from the amount of falling over and into things, and Trevor, that you had done that day. 

You were ready to fall into bed and relax when on your way home, you saw something that concerned you. Trevor, being led to what you could only assume was the church, and by an alarming amount of priests. Your better nature told you to ignore it. Trevor could clearly handle himself and no matter how lowly you thought of the bishop, you knew he wasn’t stupid enough to try and kill Trevor. It wouldn’t look good to the rest of the townspeople, after all.

You succeeded in getting about 3 steps away from the quickly disappearing group when you turned on your heel to follow them. You were thankful for the sunset casting wide, dark shadows across the streets leading to that so-called holy building but the closer you got, the more you realized you could only hide for so long. So, when you got close enough to see the church, you decided to stay where you were. Hidden in the shadows, you could only stare at the back of Trevor as he was led into a building that made your skin crawl whenever you so much as looked at it. 

You waited for Trevor for much less time than you thought you would. The sun had barely moved any lower when he exited the church, the way he was walking a very clear sign that he was not happy. You abandoned your hiding spot and ran to meet him.

“Trevor!” you called, stopping when you reached him and suppressing a chuckle at the sight of him recoiling, no doubt meaning you’d startled him.

His surprised expression changed to his usual ruffled scowl, “You know, you’re really good at annoying me when I’m already in a horrible mood.”

You ignored his attitude and instead wanted to address why on Earth you watched him get whisked away by priests, “What happened in there? Why did they take you all the way to the church? Did the priest want to see you?”

Trevor grew quickly tired of your babbling, holding up a hand to silence you with his face looking deathly serious. His voice became serious again, and again you could feel yourself shiver at his abrupt change of tone, “You know this, but the Speakers only have until the sun goes down to leave this place unless they want to be killed. The bishop offered me the generous opportunity to leave before then and that he’d let me go, in simple terms.”   
  


His sarcasm as he explained his own situation wasn’t enough to ease the anxiety creeping into your chest. Today was the day your friends would either live or die, and you didn’t want it to be the latter.

“We have to warn them, Trevor,” you tried to sound as serious as him, but you both could hear the desperation and sadness in your voice as you silently pleaded with him to help you and the Speakers.

He sighs, a noise you were now very familiar with. For a moment, he doesn’t move and you fear he’ll just leave, believing he’s already done enough for the Speakers so why should he put himself out more? His eyes move from the ground to yours, the darkening sunset making them look so much deeper. With an almost inaudible huff, he walks past you, “They already know but a little reminder wouldn’t hurt I suppose…”

You can feel a strong surge of happiness pulse through your body at his words and your smile is uncontrollable. You quickly follow him as you both move to talk to the Speakers again.

You entered the small lodging after Trevor, your anxious mood being lifted only slightly by the Elder’s kind greeting, seeing the Speakers collected together on the floor of the small building.

“How good to see you two again! Please, join us,” The Elder smiled at Trevor first then to you but his face fell when he saw how downtrodden you were.

“Sure,” Trevor answered, moving to lean on the wall next to the open door, “By the way, you’re all going to die.”

“Trevor!” You scolded, glaring at the named man as he looked back at you with uninterested eyes. It was clear that he didn’t care about your tone towards him.

“What?” the elder Speaker asked, his hands on Sypha’s shoulders being a reflex of his protective nature over her.

You interrupted Trevor before he could say anything more blunt and likely depressing. You closed the door behind you as a means to privacy, “Trevor was brought to speak with the Bishop. It seems he believes your absence of a faith in God is what is bringing the night creatures and the only way to get them to stop is with all of your deaths.”

It broke your heart to watch as, one by one, the Speakers’ faces melted into sad frowns.

The Elder exhaled and looked to you for an answer, “When?”

“Before the sun goes down,” Trevor bluntly says, but his voice is heavy and his tone is grim, “By his logic, you have to die before the night creatures conduct their next raid.”

“What happens if we stay and survive?” The Elder asked. You could see the grip he had on Sypha’s shoulders tighten just a bit.

“Well, then the night creatures will come anyway, and the church will blame you, and it'll start all over again.”

You hated to admit that Trevor was right only because the idea of the Speakers in danger of both the night creatures and the people of Gresit made you shudder. It wasn’t a surprise that you had grown very fond of the Speakers, befriending them and enjoying their company. You never wanted to see any of them in pain, especially after seeing Sypha before she was freed of the cyclops’ curse.

“This feels wrong,” spoke the Elder, his eyes on the ground next to him, “To be driven out for a lie that will doom these people, it is not a Speaker thing.”

Trevor’s face twists with frustration as he looks at the Elder, “We had an agreement.”  
  
The Speaker looks back up to meet Trevor’s intense gaze and doesn’t falter in the slightest, “I don’t think it’s a Belmont thing either.”

It was clear that the Elder had struck a chord in the young man standing next to you and he pushed off of the wall.

“I don’t care,” Trevor said, his voice angry but somehow you could tell it wasn’t anger at the Speaker that he was feeling, “You need to leave. And you need to leave, now.”

“I don't think we can leave these people, not in their time of need!” Sypha says as she stands and approaches Trevor much like she had the last time the two were together here.

Trevor’s frown deepened and he too approached Sypha, “These people believe you're causing their time of need!” he spoke loudly, not yelling just yet but you weren’t confident that it wouldn’t come to that.

The Elder stands now and speaks to Trevor, “The Church says that the Belmonts dealt in evil, devil worshiping magic. That you and your family and your bloodline have been corrupted by supernatural powers and that evil and death follow you.”

Trevor’s face doesn’t move. You can tell that his words are rubbing salt into the wounds that you were sure Trevor would deny even exist. 

“And what did you do in the face of that?”

Trevor’s brows arched more than it already had somehow as he responded, “I didn't run away,” he said simply.

“Really. So, what are you running to? Did you have a destination in mind?”

“Are you calling me a coward?”

“No. I’m calling you defeated, Trevor Belmont,” The Elder stated, “You fought your battle and you decided you lost.”

“We didn't have a choice,” Trevor spat.

“Perhaps,” Sypha said, her voice calm, collected, confident even, “But  _ we  _ do. We carry with us the accumulated wisdom of this great country. We will use that to fight  _ our  _ battle.”

“You'll lose.”

“We might well lose,” The Elder admitted, moving to stand next to his granddaughter, “But, if nothing else, we might show someone that, although battles are won and lost, there is a larger war at stake.”

“With Dracula's armies?” Trevor asked, his earlier irritation quickly forgotten and replaced with his usual gruff, uninterested tone.

“No. A war for the soul of our people,” The Elder explained, “Because if we truly are the sort of people who will kill one another at the behest of a madman's fantasies, then perhaps it is right and proper that things from Hell should rise up to wipe us out.”

His words made you shiver. You understood what he meant, to some extent you even agreed with him, but the memory of the first ever raid in Gresit flashes through your mind and you can’t help but feel your hands clam up at the thought of getting torn up and killed by one of those monsters.

“It's time for those of us who fight that war to stand up and be responsible, Trevor Belmont,” Sypha says seriously as the other speakers rise to stand with their Elder and his kin, “You should leave now.”

Your eyes widen and you move to step closer to Sypha, “N-Now, hold on a moment!”

You want to insist he stay, after all you very much did believe that if he wasn’t there to protect the Speakers, they would all surely die.

Trevor instead, interjected with his own idea. With a sigh and a hand on his sword, he spoke again, “No. You're leaving right now.”

~

“You remember the plan, don’t you?” asked Trevor as he adjusted his sword on his hip, moreso fidgeting with it.

You nodded and grasped tighter to the dagger in your hands. Trevor had handed it to you and explained that when the priests came in and he had given the signal, you were to wound or kill any one of them to make it easier for Trevor to get rid of them. Your problem with this was that you’d never taken another life, not even an animal nor bug. You were only good at healing wounds, not dealing them, but you supposed that was why Trevor let you help him with this. Because in the end, if he ended up getting injured, you could heal him and he could get back to the main part of town as quickly as he could to fend off the night hoard. And even then, he’d probably need to be healed after that too.

You were so focused on your nerves that you failed to notice the approach of the mob, loud and angry and ready to kill what they thought was the reason for their suffering. The first impact against the door shook you from your thoughts and you almost dropped the dagger, your hands now shaking even more than they were before from nerves. You tried to calm your breathing so that your hiding spot in the dark corner of the now empty lodging wouldn’t be revealed to the invading priests.

More and more strikes against the door eventually break it down to nothing more than sharp planks of wood and splinters. You watch as familiar men of the cloth enter the abandoned home and are shocked and upset to only see Trevor. 

“Where are the Speakers?” one of the priests yells at Trevor. 

“I’ve put them somewhere safe,” he explains, his gaze rising from the floor to watch the angry mob just outside the door and the just as angry priests in front of him.

“You defend evil,” the priest speaks again, stepping forward towards Trevor, “Give them to us!”

“Shut up,” Trevor growled. You stare at him from your crouched position and hope you never anger him so much for that terrifying glare to be directed towards you.

“What?” the priest asked, but it’s more out of disbelief than mishearing.

“Shut. Up,” Trevor repeats, his words venomous and full of anger, “You’re not getting the Speakers. You’re getting no blood today, so shut. Up.”

The priests face twists in offense and he quickly approaches Trevor to backhand him in the face. Trevor grunts in pain but he barely moves from his spot.

“You will give us the Speakers so that we can save this city,” said the priest, insistent that he received the people he and the mob had come to kill.

“This city's lost,” Trevor says lowly, in his tone you can hear his hatred for the man in front of him, “It was lost when you and the rest of your scum moved in.”

The priest slapped Trevor across the face again. He goes on to ask Trevor if he believes the presence of the church was what brought the night hoards, not the Speakers. Trevor began to speak but was quieted by the priest.

“Silence!” He ordered loudly, “Look at you. You're a wreck. You stink. You can barely keep your eyes open. What do you expect to achieve against us?’

Trevor smiles bitterly, “Absolutely nothing.”

“So you're going to die for nothing? For people you don't know?” the priest asked, his tone accusatory.

“I don't know any of you,” Trevor said as he turned around to face the wall, “But that doesn't matter, does it?”

You were confused why he turned his back to the priests as he spoke of his family history, saving people regardless of if they knew them or not for the wellbeing of Wallachia and it’s people.  In the middle of speaking, you discovered why he’d turned away. He reached up by his shoulders under his cloak and let it fall to the ground, revealing a beautiful golden engraving in his leather back covering that you’d learned from Trevor was the Belmont crest.

He turned to face the men once more and stood proud, his chin held high as he spoke, “I am Trevor Belmont. Of the House of Belmont. And dying has never frightened me.”   
  


The priest smirked, “Good.”   
  


This was apparently a signal to the other priests to pull their knives from their sleeves and approach Trevor. You feared for Trevor’s safety but stayed in place, obediently waiting for his signal.

Once they got close enough, Trevor looked directly at you, his eyes boring into yours with a seriousness you only saw once before. In his fight with the cyclops.

“Do it, now!” Trevor yelled and you came up behind the nearest priest and rammed the knife in your hands into his back with reckless abandon. 

He groaned loudly in pain and the others followed as Trevor threw his remaining daggers into three more surrounding priests. He shoulder checked the remaining priest into the world outside of the house and you quickly followed, pulling out the rope that triggered the small house to cave in on itself and trapping the four injured priests inside.

Trevor took the priest to the ground and looked up as the mob approached him. He looked at you and barked an order, “Go! Join the Speakers and do  _ not  _ look back! Do you understand?”

You were shocked, but understood. Trevor didn’t want to keep a healer around because it was convenient for him, he wanted to keep _you_ around to let you feel like you could help because he knew you could. What he said in the house rang in your ears with your realization, that he wanted to help whoever he could even if he didn’t know them because it was the Belmont way.

So with a nod, you obeyed.

And you ran.

With the only weapon you ever held now buried under the remains of a dead priest covered in rubble, you were completely unarmed and hoped to whatever God would listen that the mob wouldn’t care enough to chase you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this extra long chapter as a sort of remedy to how long it took me to write it! I shouldn't take too long to write the next one but because I want my chapters to encompass an episode of the show, it will still take me a while but it will likely still be long so there is at least that to look forward too! Please leave me a comment if you enjoy my work, it encourages me more than I can say and makes me immensely happy to hear if you like it! Thank you so much for reading this and don't worry, Alucard is coming soon!


	3. A Question for My Readers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure you can tell by the title that this is not a new chapter but don't worry, it is still progressing smoothly! Please read ahead, your participation will help me greatly.

I'm not a fan of author's notes and chapters like this usually, but I did want to ask this and didn't have the foresight to put this at the end of the chapter. I was thinking of having filler chapters of small, fluffy moments between the reader and Alucard or more casual interactions outside of the canon with the three main cast and was wondering if that something you would be interested in reading at all? I am planning on writing them in a separate work to keep the flow of this story smooth. If that idea also sounds interesting, I could be open to turning it into a general one shots type of thing instead, all of the Castlevania characters I feel I can write well being open to the possibility of getting a romantic oneshot provided someone asks for it. If any of that sounds like something you'd be into, leave me a comment! Pitch in an idea, even tell me you wouldn't like something like that. All feedback on this idea is good feedback. Thank you for your time. By the time the next chapter comes out, I will likely delete this to keep the continuity between chapters.


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